Dog Day Afternoon

August 22, 1972

Brooklyn

It was one of those hazy, hot and humid days, a dog day afternoon to say the least.

The Brooklyn street is wet from the fire hydrants that the neighborhood boys, Frank Goren included, help uncap. The water spilled onto the street for less than forty-five minutes. Sad faces and groans are seen and heard when the fire department drives into the neighborhood, to cap them.

The kids beg for another minute or two but to no avail. "What are we going to do now?" Frank asks of his buddies.

"The beach?" chimes in Randy.

"Nah," Carmine says, "Too crowded, with all those out-of-towners."

"Yeah, they have some nerve."

"Frankie! Frankie!" he smirks at the sound of his name, his friends gaze upon the open door, where Franks' mother is standing. "What?" he calls out, "What do you want?" He says as he walks toward her.

She holds out a ten-dollar bill, "Would you please go to the store and get me a quart of milk and a loaf of bread."

He takes the money, "Sure, can we get ice cream?"

She nods, "Alright, get one for…." She looks to her left and then her right, "Where's Bobby?"

"I don't know, Ma. I'm not his keeper."

"I realize that but you are his older brother," she stands with her hands on her hips.

"Alright, alright I'll find him, gees."

"Well," Carmine shrugs his shoulders, "It will give us something to do."

"Ah guys you don't have to come with me."

A helicopter flies over-head, then sirens are heard. "What's going on?" Randy asks not expecting an answer from his friends. The boys follow the helicopter and after a few minutes they come upon a small crowd of people standing outside the bank. "What's going on?" Frank asks of Mister Giordano, the barber.

"Someone's robbing the bank."

Franks' eyes widen twice their normal size, "Wow," he takes a few steps forward and that is when he sees his younger brother, he calls out. "Hey Bobby," he waves him over. "Bobby come here."

Bobby jogs over to his brother followed by two of his friends. "Someone's robbing the bank," Bobby says excitedly. "How cool is that?"

Within the next hour it seemed as if every member of the NYPD was on this Brooklyn street. They watch as the bank robber, Sonny Wortzik, emerges from the bank with a woman. "She must be one of the hostages." Randy says.

Carmine hits the back of his friends head, "No….you think?"

Randy pushes his friend, "Knock it off."

Carmine pushes back and Randy looses his footing and stumbles to the ground. Frank, Bobby and his friends laugh aloud, "Knock it off the both of you," Frank says as he holds out his hand for his friend and helps him to his feet. He gazes around the crowd, many familiar faces including George Marino, the owner of the deli. He suddenly remembers his errand, shit, patting his brother on the back, "Bobby, Bobby."

"What?"

"Mom needs some things from the store, here." He hands him the ten- dollar bill. "Go get a quart of milk and a loaf of bread."

Bobby shakes his head, "No," he pushes his hand away. "She asked you to go."

"You can get an ice cream."

A smile appears on his face in an instant, he hastily takes the bill, "Ok, see you guys later."

Marino's Deli

"Bobby, were you watching the bank robbery?" Margie Marino asks.

"Yeah," he nods his head as he slides open the freezer door to the ice cream. "It was exciting in the beginning but now," he shrugs his shoulders, "Ah?"

Quart of milk, loaf of bread in one hand and an ice cream cone in the other he walks slowly down the street, it's deserted; everyone must be at the bank, boring…..

His ice cream is consumed and he takes a step onto the small porch, closer to his front door, at least Grandpa gave us an old air conditioner to use. Old is right, but it does cool down the living room, where the family has been sleeping these last few nights, all but Joseph, Bobby's father. He has been out of the house for a month now; the boys have yet to see him since he left. Bobby curses him, son of a bitch, forgetting my birthday, maybe tonight or tomorrow he'll show up he hopes.

Digging in his pocket for his key, he notices that the door is ajar. Cautiously he pushes the door open, "Ma, I got your bread and milk," he says as he walks through the living room toward the kitchen. He sets the bag down on the kitchen table. "Ma," he calls to her again. He leaves the kitchen and takes the stairs walking the fifteen feet down the hall to her bedroom, he knocks. "Ma." No answer. He opens the door slowly, knocking at the same time. "Ma!" she is not in her room. Maybe she went down to the bank. He closes the door and makes a beeline back to the kitchen, placing the milk and bread in the refrigerator.

He turns on the old beaten and battered air conditioner, then the TV. Flicking through the channels, he smiles. The news is doing a live coverage of the robbery, in his neighborhood, he removes his sweat soaked shirt and tosses it on the arm of the chair, he sits down to watch. Thirsty, I'm thirsty.

Returning to the kitchen then opening the refrigerator, staring at the contents inside, nothing…that figures, he shrugs his shoulders, water. He fills a glass with ice cubes and then water. Drinking it down before the ice has a chance to make the water cold.

He hears a giggle, a woman giggle, "Stop it," he hears her say. Placing the glass on the kitchen counter he jogs through the living room. Opening the door just enough for him to peek out. He does not recognize the man but he does the woman. "Come on in," she says sweetly.

Shit, his heart starts to pound in his chest. I need to hide, not enough time to make it up the stairs, he runs through the living room and into the den. At first he stands in the middle of room, then decides to hide in the closet.

"Where's your husband?"

"I have no idea, he left." She takes his hand with her right hand, placing her left hand to her mouth, "Shhh," she pulls him forward.

The slightly inebriated man returns the gesture, "Shhhh."

They laugh loudly; she then calls out, "Frankie, Bobby!" They enter the house closing the door behind. "Place is empty," she says. Not really concerned where anyone is. She opens the refrigerator and removes two cans of beer, "Here," she holds out the can.

"Thanks," he says as he looks around the room. "Any whiskey or gin?" he asks.

She opens her can, "No, I have beer."

I can get out of the closet now, damn this thing is small. He opens the door then he hears their voices but not the words, never has he heard his mother laugh so hardily. He changes his mind and closes the door.

"God, why do they have to be so loud?"

Minute after minute the temperature in the closet rises and the sweat is dripping down his forehead; he can feel the sweat rolling down his back causing him to itch.

"Stop it!" he hears her yell. He opens the door slightly, "I said stop it! I invited you here to cool off and have a drink."

"Yeah right, cool off, no Baby you've got me heated up." He grabs her by the back of the neck and pulls her head forward trying to kiss her; she continues to move her head to avoid his lips. "Come on don't be a tease you know you want it and I am so ready to give it to you." She tries to turn away, he yanks her arm. "Ouch," she exclaims, "That hurts let go of me."

"Come on Baby, stop. Stop struggling," he says as he pushes her onto the couch. Before she has a chance to sit up he pushes her back down and sits on her legs. He removes his shirt quickly tossing it across the room. She reaches up and slaps his face. He hits her with his fist, she stops struggling. "Well I least I got you to shut the hell up, Christ you talk too much." He stands and unzips his pants. Lifting up her skirt he pulls her panties off, lifting his head he gestures to toss them, he sees a young boy. He drops the white panties, "Where the fuck did you come from?"

Bobby remains silent and still for a moment then suddenly he runs across the room and head butts the man in the stomach. The man falls to the floor; he immediately sits on the strangers' stomach and begins to hit him several times about the face. The man reaches up and grabs a hold of his neck. "I don't want to hurt you kid."

Bobby struggles then he remembers use your hands to hit him, not to pull his arms off, he's too strong. He hits the man square on the nose. The man releases his hold and Bobby immediately stands, reaching for the phone, he can see that the man is awake, but groaning, "I'm calling the police mister." The man rolls over on his side still holding his nose, he slowly gets up. Retrieving his shirt he jogs through the room and out the door. Bobby places the phone back on the cradle.

He hears a moan coming from his mother, he remains by the phone, she holds her cheek as she sits up. Shaking her head slightly she slowly remembers the events that had occurred. She sees her youngest son and the stranger is gone.

"Bobby come here," she waves to him.

"No," he shakes his head.

"Please come here?"

The hem of her skirt is very short and he can see cleavage that he doesn't remembering seeing before. He points at her, "Why are you dressed like that?"

She tugs on her skirt as she stands, "You don't like the way I look?"

"No I don't….those clothes are too young for you, you look ridiculous."

"Well most of the men," she runs her fingers through her hair. "That I meet seem to…."

"Seem to what? Want a piece of you."

"You," she wags her finger as she walks closer to him. "Don't speak to me like that!"

"Why not, I'm not stupid I know a whore when I see one," two quick steps and she raises her hand. She slaps him across the face.

He smiles at her. "You get attacked by some guy and you slap my face."

She reaches for him, "Bobby I'm sorry," he backs away.

"No you're not, just leave me alone." She moves forward and wraps her arms around him; he hesitates before he raises his arms to hug her back.

"I am truly sorry," she whispers in his ear.

He hears the sound of a child calling, "Daddy." He shakes his head as his mind returns to the present; Robby is climbing on his lap.

"A few more condolence cards," Alex says as she shuffles through the mail.

He checks the return addresses, "It's amazing how many people one person can touch throughout their life."

She removes a photo from atop of a box, "Bobby what are you doing with this?"

"I just found it, that's all; it was in the box, with my Mom's things."

Alex sits and stares at the solider in the photo, she tosses it on his lap, "Throw it out."

He retrieves it, holding it up, "Is this the kind of men she attracted?"

"What about your Dad, was he a serial rapist and killer too?" she says lightheartedly.

"No, not that I know of, I was just thinking how much I don't know about them; it brought back a memory about a hazy hot and humid day." He points to the TV, "You've seen the movie 'Dog Day Afternoon'?"

She nods her head, "Yes I have. Is this an edited version? Robby shouldn't be listening to the language in this movie."

"Yes it is and I know that Mom." He smiles and she kisses his cheek, "I know, you know."

"Anyway," he turns to face her, "This happened in my neighborhood and it was the same day." He returns his gaze to the photo, shaking it. He then places it on his lap. "How many other men did she bring home when my brother and I were out of the house?"

"You remember him, Brady, I thought…."

"No, it wasn't him it was another man," Robby picks up the photo.

"No honey," Alex says. She gently removes it from his hand. Robby pouts for a moment then immediately slides down from his father's lap and finds something else to occupy his time.

"He tried to rape her. I was home; neither of them knew it when they came into the house. He got rough with her and she refused, well he wasn't going to take no for an answer. She slapped his face and he hit her and knocked her out. I heard it. I was hiding in the closet."

"The closet, why?" she asks as she snuggles in closer.

"I'm not really sure, maybe because it was as far away from them as I could get. I got out of the closet and walked into the room and he was sitting on top of her, I stood there for a moment, frozen. He stood up to unzip his pants and then he removed her underwear and when he looked up he saw me. He asked where I came from, I didn't answer I just head butted him in the stomach."

"Good move."

"Yeah….I hit him a few times in the face then he grabbed me by the neck and I started to panic then I remembered, hit him in nose and I did. His nose started to bleed. I got off of him and picked up the phone, threatening to call the cops, he ran out almost immediately."

"It wasn't her fault."

He takes her hand in his, "I know that now. She must have been so lonely and I suppose didn't want to grow old alone. You don't think that way when you're eleven. You know that ole saying when you advertise…."

"Women should be able to dress the way they want without it meaning, I'm available and ready."

Nodding his head, "I agree," he pauses, "But not your Mom."

Alex rubs his arm, agreeing without saying a word. She picks up the photo making a move to rip it up; he grabs her hand, "Don't."

She smirks, "Why not?"

"She had an affair with him."

"Yes I know in the fifties and then when you were four."

"Yes but also in between that," he turns his head away from her gaze. "Right before I was born."

"Wait a minute, she told you this?"

"Well Brady did in the sleaziest of ways and it wasn't hard to calculate the months, they hooked up in November of 1960, she told me the day she died that she," he pauses. "They never knew for sure."

"It's the past Bobby; it's not your fault."

"You're not curious if he's my father or not."

"Curious yes….but what difference does it make?"

He chuckles, "That's easy for you to say."

"You've come a long way from your family, you have some issues that have taken me awhile to understand but I know the kind of man you are," she picks up the photo. "And whether this person is your father or Joseph Goren you never have and you never will be any thing like them." She hands him the photo. "Rip it up."

He does………………

A/N One: I believe Bobby still has that photo.

A/N Two: I have jumped ahead a bit in the series. Will backtrack with Bobby and his family to deal with Frances and Brady.